Note to Self
by Jana Kay
Summary: A demonic client brings Lilah and Lindsey to Caritas.


TITLE: Note to Self   
AUTHOR: Jana Kay  
EMAIL: jana_kay17@yahoo.com.au   
DISCLAIMER: All Angel characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, the WB and 20th Century Fox.   
RATING: PG-13   
SPOILERS: First season of Angel, and a blink or you'll miss it for 'Untouched.' Takes place sometime after 'Judgement' though.  
SUMMARY: A demonic client brings Lilah and Lindsey to Caritas.   
  
***  
  
Okay, so I'm an evil lawyer, I know it, you know it, Hell, the whole world would probably know it if everybody didn't have such an ostrich complex. But of course instead of sticking their heads in the sand, they shove them up their asses. I know, I know, I'm a bitch. See me waving my hand because I care.  
  
I'm not ashamed of who I am. I'm a rich bitch and proud of it, and I kicked and clawed my way through hundreds just to get hired by Wolfram & Hart 9 years ago. I consider myself to be something of an elitist, and I damn well *don't* associate with the little people.  
  
I am Lilah Morgan. I do not fall, or slip or slide. I climb to the top, and apart from a few people higher than me, namely Lindsey and Holland, I've reached the pinnacle.  
  
So if I'm at the pinnacle, why is it I have to go to a damn demon bar for a client? Did I not just say I don't associate with the little people? The term 'little people' of course also refers to any kind of demon. I always tell clients I'm not a specieist, but of course I am. There's just something about horns and scaly skin and fangs that just don't match my navy blue Amanda Woodward power suit.  
  
And this of course after spending hours standing up in a non air-conditioned court house, then breaking off one of the heels of my favourite pumps in the elevator door, so I had to limp from the court house to my car, and then my car to the office. Whoever saw me, I'm planning on killing later.   
  
Thank whatever I'd brought a spare pair from home.   
  
You know, this shaped up to be such a *brilliant* day. And going to the demon bar is just going to make it even better! ((For all those little minds out there, acknowledge and love the sarcasm. It's your friend.))  
  
But at least there's one bright spot about the meeting. Lindsey has to come too. Talk about the rat finding its way home. I cannot wait to see *this.*  
  
***  
  
I've seen a lot of weird things. I've been a part of a lot of weird things. But this place just has to be the weirdest.   
  
A haven for demons?  
  
Oh come on! The best part of being around demons all the time is watching them kill each other.   
  
Well, that's *my* opinion anyway.   
  
Demon haven or no, if something gets close enough to touch me besides our client, I'm going to be pissed. Not to mention sick and disgusted.   
  
So I stick close to Lindsey.   
  
*Sniff.*   
  
Mmm, for once he actually smells good. Not that he doesn't shower or anything on a once or twice daily basis ((don't ask me how I know)), but he usually always picks some god-awful aftershave that's just got the most horrendous smell.  
  
Another reason to think less of Lindsey, besides the obvious of him only having one hand now. ((I mean come on! He was facing off against Angel *alone.* Did he really think he was going to win? If that had been me, I would have just handed the scroll right over and kissed his fingers too, no questions asked. You want to save your friend, big boy? Oh be my guest. Here you go, have a nice day! Whoops. I meant night.)) He chooses the one time we have to go to a *demon* bar to smell good. Insanity! And this is who I'm sticking close to? I don't think so.  
  
I move away from him as subtly as I can. If tall, green and slobbery wants to start hitting on him because he smells just *faabulous*, I'm going to make sure I'm out of the picture. No two for one deal with me, buddy.  
  
I spot our client sitting in a table by the corner, next to another demon. Oh another demon. We're in a demon bar. *Biiig* surprise.   
  
I straighten my jacket and strut towards them, Lindsey beside me and one step back.   
  
Let's get this thing over with.   
  
Note to self: Never see a demonic client outside of the office again.  
  
***  
  
The Fyarl demon, who's name is Toto by the way, ((believe me, I laughed too)) is sitting bunched up in a corner booth, a small but steady flow of mucus dripping down from his nose.   
  
Great. He's pissed off. He only does that when he's upset.  
  
Next to him is some green skinned *thing* with little horns on his head, not to mention a tacky fashion sense. A sequined red coat? Has this moron realised that Christmas isn't for another 4 months? He looks like a strangely non-bristly festive tree. He gets up with a nod to Toto as we get there, and I'm just waiting for him to walk under the spotlight, because then he'll twinkle.  
  
Damn, I wish I'd brought a camera.  
  
He turns to us as he leaves.   
  
"Why, hello there. I haven't seen you two around here before. First time?"  
  
I glance at him, and then smile as I look back at Toto.   
  
But Toto is looking back and forth between me and the tree.  
  
I turn my head slightly, smile fading as I check if he ...  
  
Oh God he is. He's really expecting an answer.   
  
Oh fine. He'd better never say I didn't do anything for him.  
  
Brittle smile in place, perfectly plucked eyebrow quirked just so, "Yes it is."  
  
From the corner of my eye, I see Lindsey smirking.   
  
Well of course *he'd* never be put off by societies dregs. He used to be one after all.  
  
Whoops! Did I just think that?   
  
*mental snerk*  
  
Guess I did.  
  
Little horny is just not getting it! He's still standing there, an infuriating little smile on his elongated face.  
  
Even more brittle smile, slight narrowing of eyes, "We have business to discuss, would you mind ... ?"  
  
This time I don't even need to turn to Lindsey to hear the soft snort. Oh I am so telling Holland about this. I am First Chair on Toto's case, not Lindsey. Therefore all due respect goes to *me*, and that means no snorting behind my back.  
  
Is the world against me? Because now the funny guy is folding his arms and narrowing his eyes at *me.* Can you believe this?!  
  
"I'm afraid I can't do that sweetheart. You see, this is my bar, and you can't just come in here and do your business without first doing a little something of mine." With that said, one of his eyebrows quirks up in what he thinks must be a charming gesture.   
  
Not so, froggy.  
  
One eyebrow reaches my hairline, and the other is fast approaching. "And what is that supposed to mean?"  
  
Lindsey leans over my shoulder and whispers in my ear. "He means this is a karaoke bar. You have to sing."  
  
Toto, who up until now has kept his giant maw shut, decides to pipe up to add his two cents.  
  
"He's right. That's how he sees into your soul." The flow of mucus seems to magically stop as he uncharacteristically smiles at the leprechaun. He turns back to me, one of his giant twirling horns accidentally banging into the wall, punching a small hole. He ignores it. Actually, chances are, he didn't even feel it. "It can be very helpful."  
  
"Well, what say you, gorgeous? You gonna give it a go?"  
  
Before I can tell him to go to Hell, Lindsey's agreed, and apparently, Toto's already sung, so I'm the only one left to answer.  
  
I have to remind myself at least seven times that I can't lose face. I grind my teeth as I smile. If Lindsey's going to do this, so am I. Suck it up, Lilah.   
  
"Sure." And that did not sound forced at all. No wonder I can lie so well in court. I've had so much practice out here.  
  
Second note to self: Kill yourself before you ever come into this bar again.  
  
***  
  
The Host, as I've been told he's called, hands Lindsey and I a song list each. Toto is still over in the corner, but he seems to have gone back to his usual self now. I can hear him grunting at passerby's from here.  
  
After looking over the list for all of two seconds, Lindsey hands it back with a smile on his face. "I know just what I'm going to do."  
  
The Host holds the list in his hands as he smiles at Lindsey. "And what is it you're gonna do, babyface?"   
  
Lindsey leans over and points, and the Host makes a delighted noise. "Edwin Starr, haven't heard that one in a while. Most people are a little too embarrassed to get up there and belt it out." He quirks his eyebrow again, leaning over to whisper confidentially to Lindsey. "You know, I think that says something about you."  
  
I almost fall over. Lindsey actually *blushes.*  
  
I've been so busy watching this exchange between my co-worker and the Host, that I haven't actually picked a song of my own to do yet. From the quick glance I've had though, *somebody* seems to like the oldies and the out-of-dates, because I haven't found one song that comes from the late 90's and onwards.  
  
I hurriedly try to pick a song as the Host hands Lindsey's list to the barman, then turns around and looks at me expectantly.  
  
Knowing that I'm going to look stupid no matter what I get up and sing, I point to one without even looking. Automatically, the Host and Lindsey both lean over to take a look.  
  
"Uhh ..." Lindsey says.  
  
"You can't sing that tonight," says the Host.  
  
I look to where my finger is, wishing I could be anywhere but here, and find to my horror that I've done something really stupid. I've pointed to the weekend play list, and I've accidentally stuck my finger on 'Blue Suede Shoes.'  
  
Now the Host is going to think I'm an idiot.  
  
Well I don't care, I'll just pick another one.  
  
Finding the weekday play list, I run my finger down and stop on another one.   
  
This time, I hear Lindsey snort as the Host chuckles.  
  
"Okay, we'll put that in, but now tell me sweetheart, why do you wanna sing that? Are you in love?"  
  
Love?! Oh God no. I look at where my finger's pointing.   
  
Bette Midler? Am I *crazy*?!  
  
I smile as I discretely pinch Lindsey, who yelps and moves away. "My mother used to sing it to me when I was a little girl."  
  
Of course she *didn't*, but I had to say something that seemed to fit.   
  
I narrow my brown eyes at his red ones. "Is that a problem with you?"  
  
He holds his hands up in a placating gesture. "Oh no, I just didn't think it was your kind of song."  
  
Before I can ask him what that's supposed to mean, he gestures to another demon on stage, and then turns back to us. "Okay, you two are on next. You babycakes, are up first."   
  
Oh thank God he's talking to Lindsey.  
  
That gives me time to get rid of the ((no not butterflies, because after all they're so damn girly, and they also make me sound like a naive hick)) black knot of tension in my stomach that I'm going to tear Lindsey's hair out over.  
  
He had *better* squirm up there, or I'm going to do something really, really stupid.  
  
I hate being put into positions like this.  
  
***  
  
The Host spoke to Lindsey briefly and then announced him before he went on, and now Lindsey is fumbling with the microphone, loosening his tie a little with his non-prosthetic hand.   
  
I turn from my position backstage and make sure Toto is still where he's supposed to be. I swear, if he scoots out early before we discuss business, I'm going to rip him apart with my bare hands, starting with those horns of his. Last time we spoke in the office about his case, he scratched my arm with one of them and left me with a scar. I was complaining about it to Holland for days.   
  
If he sees me coming with injuries now, he sprints in the opposite direction.  
  
If only he'd sprint out of his office and job, leaving an opening available for Head of Special Ops ...  
  
Anyway, back to what I was saying. This is all Toto's fault. If he hadn't wanted to meet here so badly, I'd be tucked safely in my lovely, leather desk chair, feet propped up on the ornate desk and remote control in my hand, watching TV, with no chance of embarrassing myself whatsoever. Or I could just as easily be at home, working out my office frustrations through laundry.   
  
As I move to turn my head back towards the stage, I spot somebody that I don't ever want to see.  
  
Angel, capital A, N, G, E, L.  
  
I groan. He's going to see Lindsey and I singing.  
  
This is just great.  
  
Oh even better, he's brought his little secretary with him, and a dark-skinned guy that I'm betting works for him too. I unconsciously look around for the ex-Watcher he has in his employ, but he seems to not be here.  
  
Well, at least there's *that* much.  
  
***  
  
The lights dim suddenly, and then come on again, music blasting loud and hard out of the speakers.  
  
"War! Ugh! ... What is it good for, absolutely nothing!"  
  
I burst out laughing.  
  
Lindsey is jumping around, holding the microphone in his real hand. The tie is hanging half way down, the jacket's gone, and his hair is flopping everywhere.  
  
"Oh yeah, war! Ugh! ... What is it good for, absolutely nothing!"  
  
He's swinging his arms around and moving all around the stage, and he's belting the lyrics out at the top of his lungs.  
  
He's a little off key, and that just makes it even funnier.  
  
"War!"  
  
Now he's bending down on one knee and shaking a fist, then hopping up again and looking at the lyrics as he bounces around in the same spot.  
  
Scratch the camera, I want a video camera. I want to record this and play it back at every opportunity I get.   
  
I laugh as I look out over the crowd and take in their reactions.   
  
To my amazement, they seem to be enjoying it. What's worse, Lindsey's making a dick of himself, and they seem to think it's great!  
  
Just my luck, a crowd that sides with the underdog. Whatever happened to good old fashioned, ripping-people-apart-for-the-fun-of-it lovers? Gone with the days of the Gladiators I tell you. I was definitely born in the wrong era. In fact, just the other day, somebody told me I bore a very distinct resemblance to Cleopatra.   
  
I've forgotten my history lessons of humans, ((though all demonic history lessons are still fresh in mind. If you want to know how the first vampire was created, how the Scourge first came into being, or how it was first made possible for demons and humans to reproduce, I'm your woman. Virtual encyclopedia's what I am ... which isn't really that special considering I memorised things straight *out* of the encyclopedia, sentence structure and grammar and all)) so I don't know if the story of Cleopatra fits with the tales of the Gladiators, but I know she had something to do with Rome and therefore kind of fits in, so cut me some slack.  
  
I cringe as I look over, but sure enough, Angel and his associates are laughing too. Angel is actually rolling around in his chair, pointing and gasping.   
  
Moment of perfect happiness, perhaps?   
  
I can only hope.   
  
The return of Angelus would definitely wipe those smug smirks off his pretty girl and dark companion's faces.   
  
I narrow my eyes at their display and turn back to Lindsey, just in time to catch him jumping around in the final stages of the song.  
  
"Ooohh yeah, war! Ugh! ... What is it good for, absolutely nothing! Good God y'all."  
  
He finishes with a flourish, rock star style on his knees in the center of the stage.  
  
Whoo boy. Now it's my turn.  
  
***  
  
So now I'm on the stage, absolutely scared out of my mind. I haven't mentioned yet that I sometimes develop stage fright, have I? Then again, maybe the 'black knot of tension' gave it away.  
  
Well in any case, I do, and it is definitely coming up right now, especially with certain white hats in the audience, champing at the bit in anticipation of my downfall.  
  
I spot Lindsey tucked in a corner backstage with the Host, smiling as the demon apparently tells him wonderful things about his soul. Or horrible things, depending on what you believe Lindsey's tastes to be.  
  
I avoid looking at the Fang Gang at all costs. Maybe if I ignore them, they'll just go away, but that childhood schoolyard tactic never worked then, and it sure as Hell isn't working now, especially when--  
  
"Yoo-hoo ... oh Liiiilaaaah ... over here ..." Which is followed by much pointing and not-needed hand waving.   
  
Shut. Up. You. Annoying. Overgrown. Mosquito.   
  
I will not take this abuse from an idiotic vampire ((cleverly disguised as a hulk of muscle, with tiny peepholes for eyes and hair so spiky it could be considered another weapon in his arsenal)) who was stupid enough to get himself a soul when he had *passed* the century mark.  
  
I glare at him as he sits there, grinning stupidly and smirking and surrounded by his employees, and consider throwing my shoe at him. It's kind of wooden, it's got a sharp heel ... if I throw it at just the right angle ...   
  
And I discard the thought before it even reaches fruition. It would never work anyway. He may be dumb as a doornail, but he does have excellent survival instincts, and they all make him move *so* damn fast.  
  
And then the lights dim, and the little screen to my left is lit up with the words to the song.  
  
Whoo boy.   
  
Okay Lilah, just pretend it's you home alone in the shower.   
  
*Open mouth*  
  
*Pause*  
  
Damn it! I don't sing in the shower.  
  
***  
  
"Did you ever knoooow that you're my heeeerooo," and I'm not looking at *anybody* as I sing these horrible words that make me want to throw *up*, preferably on either the Host or Lindsey.   
  
And if they aren't close enough, Angel, who's done nothing since I started singing but jump around down there so he can get himself in my line of sight. And he's *still* laughing! Torturous bastard.  
  
And oh yeah right. As if I'm going to look at the Fangs-with-Hair while I sing this crap. Then it'll seem as though I'm singing *to* him when I'd rather be *staking* him ... maybe after slapping him around a bit ... nothing big you understand, just cutting out his liver and eating it ... that sort of thing.   
  
"I would fly hiiigher, than an eaaaaagaaaaale," I may start to kiss something soon, I'm almost finished, "'cause you are the wiiiiind beneath myyy wiiiiings."  
  
Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou.   
  
And I'm off that stage before the words are even changed on the screen.  
  
***  
  
Backstage, I almost run straight into the Host and Lindsey who were waiting for me to come off, and I practically trip on my navy pumps in my attempt to stop before I bowl them over. Lindsey has a shit-eating grin on his face, while the Host just looks a little disgusted.  
  
Okay, now I know I'm not the world's greatest singer, Hell I'm not even that good, but really, this is a karaoke bar. All the worst singers are drawn here, and demons are even worse! You'd think he'd be used to it by now.  
  
Another smirk from Lindsey as I right myself and tug on the hem of my skirt. "That was ... oh I don't know how to describe it. But there's just one thing I'm dying to ask you. Where exactly are you hiding the cat?"  
  
My eyes narrow as I stare at my co-worker. "What are you talking about?"  
  
"Well you were just making such an intense yowling sound, I thought--"  
  
Oh that is it. Once and for all MacDonald, you're going down. I snarl as I lunge at him before he's even able to finish his sentence, only to find myself caught up in the Host's surprisingly strong grip.  
  
"Let me go you green moron!"  
  
I elbow him in the stomach and hear his sharp intake of breath, but he refuses to break his hold, so I'm reduced to glaring angrily at Lindsey, who's too busy laughing to pay any attention at all to my glare.  
  
Damn him, he just has to look so damn smug, doesn't he? Well maybe I can still get him, even while I'm still being held.  
  
"Oh by the way, Lindsey, did you happen to recognise anybody in the crowd while you were singing?"  
  
HA! I know he didn't, he was too busy fiddling with his shirt and tie.  
  
He raises an arrogant eyebrow even as the smile twitches ever so slightly on his lips.  
  
To anybody else, his controlled expression would have seemed the epitome of smooth, but I know him too well. Years of standing side by side during demonic slime rituals in abandoned cemetaries and bad hair days in court will do that to two people.   
  
Not to mention constantly digging dirt up so we can keep trying to one up each other.   
  
Yes Lindsey, be nervous. You know I can still get you.   
  
"Actually Lilah, no I didn't. I wasn't really looking."  
  
It's my turn now for an eyebrow to arch, and then I whip out my cat-that-ate-the-canary smile. I am *such* a bitch. "Oh I know you didn't. But still. It's very hard to miss your favourite vampire, now isn't it? He's so ... big and strong."  
  
Yuck. After saying that I want to wipe my mouth and tongue with the Host's jacket, but it produced the desired effect.   
  
Narrowing of eyes, tightening of jaw, fingers flexing ever so slightly as the poisoned knife goes just that little bit deeper and then twists.   
  
Oh definitely. Big and strong, straight to Lindsey's masculinity or lack there of. Angel was too big and strong for Lindsey to even be able to play his own hand back in the mausoleum. And then of course, he went one step further and took that hand away completely.  
  
A curl of a lip now, and then he's clearing his throat. "Angel was here?"  
  
My smile grows bigger. "He still is, Lindsey."  
  
And then a pair of forearms squeeze me around my stomach to get my attention, and the Host says, "Okay you two crazy kids, that's enough. We have to move from here before the next singer's done, and I still have to do sweetheart here's reading."  
  
Well look at that, we were so caught up in our verbal war, we didn't even notice the chaos demon come on and start singing, 'Raindrops keep falling on my head.'  
  
The Host finally lets go of me as we move away, and Lindsey alternates between fidgeting as he glares at me ((like I really care that I bruised his ego. I haven't even gotten started yet about that cat comment, he'd better keep watching his back, and he acts as though he's Pavarotti or somebody. He can't sing for shit either!)) and fidgeting as he tries to glare past the curtains, searching for a sign of brown spikes with golden highlights.  
  
Don't ever even *try* to tell me that that demon doesn't go to a hairdresser.  
  
Personally, I'd love to know who does it, but there's no way I'm stooping that low.  
  
We reach the stairs that lead down to the crowd, but we're still behind the curtains, and a look over my shoulder tells me that the chaos demon is almost done.  
  
The Host notices too, because he turns to me and says, "Now for your reading, but I don't have much time so it's gonna be quick."  
  
Oh great, my reading. I sigh as I roll my eyes and fold my arms over my chest. I'd forgotten that you got one after you sung.   
  
I force a smile to my lips as I turn to the waiting Host. "Well? What did you see?"  
  
Actually, now that he's about to tell me, I admit I *am* a little curious. What does the future have in store for me. Am I going to get a promotion in the near future? A better co-worker than Lindsey? ((I would sell my soul *again* if the answer was yes.))   
  
A glint of something not-very-nice appears in the demon's eyes, and he answers, "I'm going to make this as short and painless as possible for two reasons. Firstly, because I don't like to tell people these sorts of things, and secondly, because we don't have much time."  
  
Oh this is *just* what I need. I'm probably going to die or something. There goes that promotion I've dreamed of.   
  
The Host pauses again, and I practically explode.  
  
"Would you just get on with it!"  
  
Ooops. I think I upset him. Well *WHO* *CARES*!! I didn't even want to get up there and sing in the first place, it's not *my* fault he doesn't like what he saw.  
  
His face seems to have gone a waxier shade of green. "Well fine! You know, there's no easy way to pussy-foot around this sweetheart, so I'm just gonna come right out and say it. I've looked into your soul and I've got just two words for you: 'ug' and 'ly'."  
  
I just can't help it. This has been *such* a bad day, and then this *moron* comes along and makes me waste my time *singing* in a *demon* *bar* and completely and utterly *humiliate* myself, just so he can give me an anagogic reading I already knew?  
  
I don't think so. I can take a lot, but even I have a breaking point.  
  
I lunge at the Host with an angry growl and tackle him to the ground, and this time, he isn't quick enough to grab me before I straddle him and start hitting him over and over again.  
  
"You stupid //whack// idiotic //whack// pathetic //whack// useless //whack// excuse for a demon //whack//. I've had the *worst* day //whack// and you *make* me sing here //whack// when I don't even *want* to //whack// and the best you can do //whack// is tell me something I already know?!"   
  
//whack// //whack// //whack//  
  
You know I'm only human, this idiot should have overpowered me by now, but I *have* been taking self defence classes on my night off for years now, plus I caught him by surprise, so maybe me still sitting on him right about now is justified.   
  
And then in any case, I've barely finished that thought when he grabs my arms and throws me off of him.  
  
I hit my head hard on the wooden floor, and through the haze of pain, I see the chaos demon running towards us and Lindsey trying to hold the Host back.   
Oh so *now* Lindsey is acting like he's supposed to. Well now I don't *need* his help.  
  
I struggle to my feet ((a difficult thing when you're in heels)) and throw myself back at the Host again, only to have the unknown chaos demon grab me from behind and hold me the same way Lindsey is holding onto the Host.  
  
And then we're screaming at each other and there's hair in my eyes and I *know* my mascara has smudged and there's a run in my stockings, and somebody's pulled the curtains open fully so the audience and the Fang Gang are watching us as we throw petty insults back and forth and try to pull each other's hair out when we get within arms reach.  
  
I get in a good kick with my heel while he manages to scratch my cheek before we're dragged apart, kicking and screaming.   
  
I'm soundly slapped by the chaos demon, while out of the corner of my eye, I see Lindsey doing the same thing to the Host.  
  
Apparently, a slap is enough to knock some sense back into both of us, because the murderous gleam in the Host's eyes seems to fade, even though you can tell he's still as pissed as all Hell.  
  
He slowly moves towards me, but I think he's learned a lesson about Lilah Morgan, because he doesn't let himself get in reaching distance.  
  
"Listen you panda faced uber-bitch, if I ever catch you in my establishment again, I'm reserving the right to grab you up by your scrawny little neck and boot you out. Literally!"  
  
My eyes narrow into slits, but I control myself just barely and don't throw myself at him again.   
  
"I'd never want to come back in here again anyway, you frog-faced anagogic weakling. I didn't even want to come here in the first place. And believe me I definitely didn't want to get up on your stink-infested stage and sing. Your establishment reeks, your clientele are all freaks, and your powers of perception are puny!"   
  
With that said, I hold my head high and walk down the stairs off the stage. I allow myself one glare back over my shoulder, and Lindsey promptly comes running.   
  
He knows me so well. Be afraid everyone, be very afraid.  
  
I don't even take a smidgen of a look at the table where I know the Fang Gang are sitting, but instead stalk straight towards the corner booth where I left Toto at, the crowds magically parting in front of me like the Red Sea.   
  
I grab my briefcase up in one hand and fix my jacket with the other, before locking eyes with Toto who's looking just the tiniest bit scared.   
  
Another wave of fury comes over me as I stare at the hulking mass. This is all his fault, if we'd only met in the office ...   
  
Leaning forward, I grab one of his twirling horns in a strong grip and yank him close.  
  
"If you ever suggest we meet somewhere outside of the office again, I'm going to sue you for willful defamation, then rip off your horns, bury you next to my house, and listen to you slowly die in screaming agony, are we perfectly clear?"  
  
He does the only thing he can do at that point in time, which is nod. I have his horn in my hand, and if I want, I can easily rip it off. Horns are like a Fyarl demon's Achilles heel. They're surprisingly easy to remove, if you ever manage to get close enough that is, and ripping them off weakens them to such an extent that even a small child could kill them if it wanted to badly enough.   
  
Not to mention the organ-twisting *pain*.  
  
I yank him up out of the booth and make my way out of the bar with Lindsey behind me. We don't however, manage to get out without another uncharacteristic hoot of abuse and laughter from Angel, and I can feel Lindsey bristling from here. Don't you worry Angel, your time is near, just as soon as dear Darla's got her strength back.  
  
We're down the street and have almost reached the underground parking garage nearby where Lindsey parked his car, before Toto seems to get some of his wits back, which considering the fact he's a Fyarl demon seems about right.   
  
With anybody else, it would take a lot less time, but Fyarl demons are renowned for being lovers of violence and incredibly dumb.   
  
"Wait, you can't sue me. I'm a client!"  
  
I roll my eyes as I vow to myself never to take on another Fyarl demon as a client again.   
  
"Toto, stop and think a moment. Who's the lawyer here?"  
  
We've settled in Lindsey's car and I'm fixing my mascara in the mirror ((panda faced my ass, stupid demon)) before he answers.  
  
"You?"  
  
Third and final note to self: For the love of God, never leave the house.  
  
Talk about your bad day.  
  
  
~Finis~  



End file.
